


Who is Victor Trevor?

by MutedSilence



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Dates, Jealous John, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Teenlock, Unilock, practice date, victor is made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MutedSilence/pseuds/MutedSilence
Summary: Sherlock is in love with his best friend, John Watson.When confronted, Sherlock makes up Victor Trevor - a person that Sherlock wants to ask on a date.John offers to help by taking Sherlock on a practice date. The one thing Sherlock wants more than anything.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Who is Victor Trevor?

**Author's Note:**

> It is 5am, I haven't slept. I saw a prompt on Tumblr just before I was about to go to bed and couldn't leave it. This is my first teenlock/unilock. I hope it's okay.

Sherlock had a problem. It wasn't just any problem, it was a problem that had been festering for months. He was - as many a teen would say - in love. Terribly cliché, he was aware of that, but it was true. He was maddingly in love with his best friend. He checked every article he could. Including the gossip magazines. In a moment of hopelessness, he even brought and read a variety of teen girl magazines. Everything that had been plaguing his mind led to one thing. He was deeply in love. 

Now, John Watson wasn't just anyone. He was the object of everyone's affections. John was training to be a doctor, he had dreams to join the army, he was rugby captain, and incredibly fit. He could get anyone he wanted. He fended off relationships to focus on his studies. Much to the dismay of many. 

Sherlock had completed school early, flying through his studies and joined university ahead. Even though he was a year younger than the first years, he was light years beyond them. He managed to pass the entrance exam easily - ultimately, he ended up in John's chemistry class. 

And it was his by far, his favourite class. 

Sherlock slunk to the back of the class on his first day. John was seated towards the front, surrounded by most of the girls and a fair amount of the boys. John had the unmatched talent to make friends with anyone. Sherlock, on the other hand, had the unmatched talent to make people hate him. 

That's how they met. Sherlock pissed off the wrong person. Spilling his deductions in front of everyone. They certainly made his life difficult from then on. John stepped in when they were calling him names. Looking back - Sherlock had a crush on John from the moment he joined the class. A crush that had grown and become something uncontrollable. 

John wasn't like everyone else. He loved Sherlock's deductions. He even encouraged them. John and Sherlock became inseparable over time. They studied together and hung out over the weekend. Sherlock would quiz John on his medical studies, and John would get Sherlock to deduce strangers. 

It was perfect. 

Until Sherlock wanted more. 

* * *

John had moved to sit next to Sherlock in their chemistry class. No one ever questioned John. He asked to move seats and that was it - he was sat next to Sherlock. No one else could pull that off. It was part of John's charm. That's when Sherlock realised, he felt more than friendship. 

A connection that couldn't be matched. He, Sherlock Holmes, was in love. 

John was just talking, the way he always did. Chatting about some show that Sherlock 'had to watch' because it was 'brilliant, absolutely amazing'. They had plans to study that night. The plan was to go to Sherlock's - it was much quieter there - study, eat dinner, then watch whatever crap John turned on. It was a Friday, so if Sherlock played his cards right, John would stay the night. 

Sherlock was staying at his brother's house. It was closer to his uni, and Mycroft was hardly ever there. He was always working. 

John and Sherlock met up after all their classes ended and walked to Mycroft's. The flat was spacious and spotless. Apart from Sherlock's room. That had been torn apart and stained with various chemicals. Neither boy spent any time in any other room, it was like standing in a museum. 

Sherlock had a small collection of dvd's for when John came over. He would leave John to choose the film while he fetched some snacks from Mycroft's 'secret' stash. 

That's exactly what he did. 

But this time, when Sherlock came back into the room, John didn't have a dvd. John was sitting on Sherlock's bed reading through some of the teen magazines Sherlock had brought for love advice. "I didn't know you read these. Your make-up is still attached to the cover." Heat flooded Sherlock's face. Painting his cheeks an embarrassing shade of red. 

John looked up at him. Sherlock was still standing in the doorway, snacks in hand - long forgotten. "Sherlock, why do you have these?" 

Sherlock's mind went into overdrive. Panic coursing through his veins. How the hell would he get out of this?  _ Yeah, don't worry John. Just got those for some tips about being madly in love with your only friend. _

Dropping the various snacks where he stood, Sherlock spun on his heel and stalked into the bathroom. Locking himself inside to calm down. He splashed water on his face. A knock came from the other side of the door. "Sherlock, I'm sorry okay. I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious. You marked some of the pages… You can talk to me if anything is bothering you. You know that right?" 

It was ridiculous, hiding in your bathroom to escape the difficult, yet inevitable, conversation. He knew he could talk to John. Who else would he talk to? Mycroft? He shuddered at the thought. Now or never. John wouldn't quit, he'd just wait until he thought Sherlock had forgotten. 

Sherlock opened the door. John looked up at him, concern playing around the edge of his eyes. Sherlock decided to get it out. Talking fast so that John would hopefully miss most of it, "I really like a guy, but he probably doesn't like me the same way. I want to take him on a date, but I have absolutely no experience in that area. I don't know what to say to him to get him to go on a date with me, and even if I did land a date, I don't know what to do or say during said date. So, I consulted the magazines that have helped plenty of girls with the men of their dreams. Did you pick the dvd?" With that, Sherlock walked past John towards his bedroom and sat on his bed. Picking up the discarded snacks on his way. 

John followed slowly. Processing everything that Sherlock had said. "I could help you," Sherlock's head snapped up. John was standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips as he looked at the floor. His voice was small and hidden in the space in the room. Slowly, John raised his head, "If you want that, that is." 

This couldn't be happening. 

"Sure. You don't have to. I'd appreciate it, if… if you don't mind." John dropped his arms and came to sit beside Sherlock. 

They sat incredibly close. It was nothing more than usual, but it felt a lot closer. "So, tell me about him. What's his name? Do I know him? What does he look like?" 

So, this is really happening then. 

Sherlock could hardly tell John it was him. He couldn't risk this. John was smiling at him. All attention on him. Sherlock drew a breath, "His name is um," He didn't think this through. "Victor," The word came through slowly. The first name that came to his head that wasn't John. It was from a book on his book self, Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. That wasn't enough, John was still waiting. "Trevor." Where did that come from? He mentally shook himself as John looked down, thinking. 

He shook his head and his smile returned as he looked back up at Sherlock. "I don't know anyone called Victor Trevor. Tell me about him." John looked happy, but Sherlock could tell there was something behind his eyes. Something Sherlock had never seen with John before. 

It took Sherlock a few seconds to register that John was still waiting. He began to stammer out, "He, um, he's blond. Short blond hair. And he has nice blue eyes. More than nice really, they're perfect. He's perfect. His smile is, uh, it's um, captivating. He's popular, but not obnoxiously so. He thinks my deductions are amazing," The words were spilling out, faster than he had expected. Unguarded as they passed his lips. "He's in shape, people fall over him just to get a smile. He could have anyone, but he talks to me. Me, of all people. I can't think when I'm around him, then when I'm not around him, I can't stop thinking about him." 

John's smile had changed. He looked almost angry. Which is a look John had never given Sherlock. It worried him a little. He had the urge to move back - take back everything he had said just to get that look off John's face. What caused it? He was fine just -  _ oh.  _ He knows. 

A siren started to go off in Sherlock's mind. Red flashing lights flaring behind his eyes. John hadn't moved. His jaw set in the angry smile, his eyes unmoving. John gave a sniff and just like that, his face was back to normal. Like the sniff had been his factory reset. "He sounds great. How do you want me to help?" 

Well, that was unexpected. 

Sherlock was still reeling from the quick shift in John's demeanor. 

"We can practise. I'll be Victor, you can be, well, you. Then I can help you through it. The date part. Everything you just said would be plenty to get a date. Trust me." John held his hand out and rested it on Sherlock's knee. The contact set his leg on fire. 

The words set in. John had just agreed to go on a date with Sherlock. John Watson had just agreed to go on a date with Sherlock Holmes. He felt like he was floating. "You mean it? You don't mind, you don't think it would be weird?" 

John laughed, but it was restrained. A laugh for necessity, not a laugh caused from a joke. "It won't be weird. Ask me. I'm… Victor." The name was bitten off. The sound slipping through the gaps in his teeth. 

"Do you want to go on a date with me?" His stomach did a flip. 

"I would love to. Pick me up at mine? Say, seven in the evening?" Sherlock felt like he was going to throw up. He gave a stiff nod. This couldn't be happening. "Great, I look forward to it. See you tomorrow." 

John got up and collected his things. He smiled at Sherlock as he fluttered around the room. Sherlock was certain John would spend the night. He had practically set up camp and made himself at home. Why was he leaving? Sherlock stood up and looked over John. The angry look in his eyes was back. Why was he angry? Sherlock watched powerless as John left. 

He slumped on his bed. Confused over why John had rushed out. He went to explore it more. Before he could, the fact he had a date with John freaking Watson came crashing down on him like a pile of bricks. He looked at the time. Less than twenty-four hours to prepare for the night of his life. Jesus. What had he gotten himself into? 

* * *

Sherlock had gone to Mycroft. He needed something nice to wear, and money for the dinner. He booked a seat at an Italian restaurant. A place called Angelo's. It had good reviews and the pictures on tripadvisor showed it to be a nice, romantic setting. And it wasn't anything too high-brow. 

Mycroft was initially confused why his little brother suddenly had an interest in looking his best, and eating. After a short explanation, without any details, Mycroft agreed to help Sherlock out. He took him to get a new suit - a thing Mycroft had been wanting to do for ages. Sherlock's normal attire was a baggy shirt and black jeans. A look Mycroft hated. He took him to a tailor and paid extra to have it all rushed. Sherlock only wanted a new shirt and jeans, now he had a whole new wardrobe. Then again, it was for John. So each minute stood being prodded at, was worth it. 

When Sherlock showed his brother where he had made the reservations, he wasn't best pleased. Mycroft had only just begun to climb the governmental ladder, but his taste was certainly getting expensive. He tried to convince Sherlock to go with somewhere else, but nowhere else felt right for John. John didn't care about appearances. John liked Italian, and he would love the cosy warm lighting. 

Sherlock was dressed in a sharp black suit paired with a pearl white shirt. He fiddled with the suit for ages in front of his mirror. Mycroft had brought him waistcoats and ties to pair with it. It wasn't him. He took off the waistcoat, discarding it. The tie wasn't right. He never did like ties. He threw it off, condemning it to the back of his wardrobe. No. Not right. He undone a button, his pale neck showing underneath. He tilted his head. Turning in the mirror to see from all angles. He undone another button. Letting his fingers work over the silk. He turned and examined it in the mirror. Then another. No! He redid the button. With the tie and waistcoat gone, two buttons undone, and his jacket buttoned, he felt right. 

He rushed from the house. Hurrying to meet John at seven, like arranged. His palms began to sweat. 

Sherlock arrived just in time. He sent a quick text to John. He was nervous enough without seeing John's flatmates. Within seconds, John stepped out. 

John had put on a beautiful azure coloured suit with a white shirt. He had a camel coloured tie to match the outfit. They both stood, staring at each other. Taking in everything about the other. 

John cleared his throat and pushed forward. Coming to stand next to Sherlock. "You look really good." John was still looking at Sherlock from the corner of his eye. 

Sherlock looked back over John. They had started walking, he momentarily forgot he was leading. "What about you? You look breath-taking." It hit Sherlock that he could say it all. He could say exactly what he was thinking. He was on a date with John, and if John didn't return his feelings, he could pretend to be practising for this Victor. 

John blushed and gave Sherlock a sad smile. He was certain he hadn't read it wrong. Why was John sad? Sherlock pulled his mind back to the present. "There's a little restaurant not too far away. It looks nice." 

John just nodded. He cast glances at Sherlock every so often when he thought Sherlock wasn't looking. The thing was, when John was around, Sherlock wouldn't look anywhere else. 

They arrived and were shown to their table. John looked around and seemed to like the atmosphere. It made Sherlock slightly more confident. They settled in their chairs and looked over the menu. John ordered first and Sherlock just asked for the same. 

"So, what do you want to talk about?" John had his sad smile on his face again. It chipped away at Sherlock's joy. He couldn't understand why John was sad. It was his idea, did he not want to do it? 

Sherlock looked deep into his eyes, trying to figure it out. Without consent from his brain, he spoke, "Why are you sad, John?" 

The question startled them both. John sat back in his chair. His jaw dropping and his ears turning pink. Sherlock's mouth opened and closed, grasping for a way to fix the situation. 

John found his voice first, "I'm not sad. I'm fine, it doesn't matter, this is about you getting ready for Victor." 

Their food arrived not too long after. They sat and ate. Sherlock wasn't hungry, but it stopped him saying something stupid. John avoided looking at Sherlock from then on. His sad expression was replaced with - what was that? Anger? Again? John's hand was resting on the table beside his plate. Sherlock reached across, placing his hand on John's. Sherlock kept eating. John had stiffened and stopped eating, looking down at their joined hands. 

This wasn't playing out how Sherlock had hoped. He rubbed his thumb over John's skin. Smoothing over the knuckles. 

John looked back up at Sherlock. He gave another smile. The sadness was back, but he tried to hide it. Tried to look happy for Sherlock. 

The rest of the date was uneventful. They went for a walk after Sherlock paid. John tried to protest, acting ever the gentleman. Taking the long way back to John's place. Sherlock couldn't let it end like this. John wasn't happy, he couldn't mess up their friendship. The time was working against him though. They arrived back at John's before Sherlock had figured out what to say. His filter apparently faltering again, Sherlock blurted, "Do you want to do it again?" 

John turned to face Sherlock. He let out a deep breath. A breath he seemed to be holding in all night. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I can't. You were perfect. Don't worry, Victor will love you. How could he not? I'll, um." he pointed towards his front door, leaving the sentence unfinished, hanging between them. He turned away from Sherlock. 

In a moment of desperation, Sherlock grabbed John's arm. "Please. Tell me what's wrong," John tried to struggle against Sherlock's grip. Not using his full strength, just wriggling his arm to loosen the grip. He let his agony show through his voice. He couldn't let John leave. "You said I could talk to you, well it works both ways. You're my best friend, I can't lose you, John." 

He stopped struggling. Standing still, his breathing had become controlled. He turned back to Sherlock, his gaze locked on their feet. Sherlock didn't dare let go in case John ran. He wouldn't, but he still wouldn't risk it. 

"I asked everyone, no one knows any Victor Trevor. I searched. I found a Victor, but he had brown hair and eyes. I don't know why you like him." Sherlock screwed his eyes as he took in John. Nothing was making sense. John went looking for Sherlock's made-up crush. Why would - 

Oh

_ Oh! _

Everything fell into place. John's sad smile, the tightness when he spoke of Victor. How distant he was acting during the date. "Victor doesn't exist." 

He said it matter of factly. John's head snapped up. His gaze piercing through Sherlock. His eyebrows falling and joining in the middle as he took in what Sherlock had said. Sherlock carried on. He raised his hand and placed it on John's head lightly, "He has blond hair," his hand slid to the side of John's face, his finger on the side of John's eye, "he has the most brilliant blue eyes," his hand fell again to rest on John's cheek, "his smile is captivating," his hand fell to rest on John's hip, "he's perfect."

John looked deep into Sherlock's eyes. His mouth opened. Sherlock held his breath. Waiting to find out if he was right. The seconds dragging, spinning into an eternity. John finally spoke, "Victor, fucking Trevor." He turned away, the anger clear in his features this time. Sherlock dropped all contact as if he had been scalded. John turned back towards Sherlock. His face shifting, his captivating smile shining through. "Me." The word was but a breath. 

He took a step towards Sherlock. Placing his hand on Sherlock's cheek. "Ask me again. I'm John. You're you." 

"John, will you go on a date with me?" His words were hesitant. 

"Yes. Always." John leant forward, pulling Sherlock down until their lips joined in the middle. Sherlock melted into the embrace. All frustration from the night filtering out into the night sky. 


End file.
